


cruel summer

by cloudchasers_xx



Category: Designated Survivor (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rejection, angsty, angsty with a happy ending, dorks in luv, human disaster aaron shore, luv confessions, pinning aaron shore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudchasers_xx/pseuds/cloudchasers_xx
Summary: “It’s Hannah,” Aaron reasons, like that offers any explanation. It doesn’t seem to.“Yes, it’s Hannah. Hannah who —” Lyor makes a vague hand gesture at him. “— and you who —” he continues, with another vague hand gesture.Aaron frowns.“But it’s Hannah.” Aaron looks at Kendra.
Relationships: Aaron Shore & Hannah Wells, Aaron Shore/Hannah Wells, Lyor Boone/Seth Wright (implied)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	cruel summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hideous_Sun_Demon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hideous_Sun_Demon/gifts).



> thanks talyor swift for the title. yes this takes place in summer lowkey future fic where kimble hookstraten is vice president instead of aaron wooo

It’s weird how you can know someone so well — like the familiar beat of your own pulse in your wrist, like the self-deprecating joke in your own head — and still feel sometimes like you barely know them at all.

Aaron knows what Hannah looks like at three in the morning, exhausted and drained and at the end of her rope from a long case; knows the exact face Hannah will make when Aaron suggests sleeping under those sub-optimal conditions. He knows what Hannah sounds like asleep, the breathy half-snores cut with murmurs when she turns over as she lays on his couch in his office while he watches over her.

He knows that if he starts in on some dumb bit, Hannah will meet him halfway, effortlessly and generously, and they’ll be step-for-step for the whole thing until it’s well past its prime, still laughing well after everyone else has stopped.

He could pick those surprisingly broad, sloping shoulders out of a lineup; could identify Hannah’s distinctive profile at twenty yards in the dark; can tell, when footsteps approach him from behind, whether they are Hannah’s or whether they are cause for alarm.

Aaron knows Hannah. He knows he does.

And yet.

When it comes to the things that have made Hannah _Hannah_ , that explain where she’s been and who she is today, all those personal details that make you feel like you truly know a person intimately — Aaron comes up almost empty-handed. Hannah just never volunteers personal information about herself. When she tells stories from her past, they are inevitably funny but shallow, and if you try to prod her for more, she snaps shut like a clam.

Sometimes, when Aaron teases her about being a robot with no feelings and no fears, Hannah will spin some well-articulated web of bullshit and Aaron will get a hint, just a glimmer, of the deflection at work. But when he pushes, Hannah just looks at him blank-faced until Aaron gives up.

One time, someone asks him offhand what Hannah’s favorite color is, and Aaron opens his mouth to start to answer. Then he closes it again, because he realizes he doesn’t even fucking know that.

“Purple,” he says after a moment, decisive, because he knows it’s the sort of thing a person should know about one of their best friends after three years. But he doesn’t know.

* * *

It’s only seven, but it’s been a very long week. To have this nice little reprieve is well-earned; Aaron’s got a pleasant buzz going, sipping his Jack and Coke as conversation thrums among the group they’ve put together. In their booth, Lyor sits next to him on his right, stirring his straw in his tequila and tonic. Seth’s on his left, squished between him and the wall, nursing a glass of water. Kendra sits across from them with long island iced tea in her glass, Hannah taking a swig of her beer in front of Aaron. 

“Okay, okay. If you could, who would you buy a house with, and why?” Kendra says and the group goes silent for a second to think. Aaron already has his answer but he’s waiting for Hannah’s response.

Seth says, “Lyor!” at the same time Hannah says, “I would live with Aaron.”

The conversation does not pick up Seth’s addition; Kendra leans over the table to look down at Hannah over where Aaron sits between them. 

“Would you buy one with me, though?” she asks. Aaron turns to Hannah, curious for her answer.

Slowly, Hannah drinks from her bottle and sets it down on the table. She shakes her head. “Mmm, no. There should only be one extremely messy person in a house. I learned that the hard way.” 

Aaron laughs, loud and exaggerated. “Ha ha,” Aaron cackles, feeling prideful. Hannah grins and rolls her eyes.

“Be right back,” Hannah says, slipping out of the booth. Aaron watches her walk away, his eyes following the long strides of Hannah’s legs, the height of her body, before turning his attention back to the table. 

Three pairs of eyes stare straight at him, and his heart lurches in his chest, like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“What?” 

“Generally, people who want to buy houses with other people tend to have feelings for the person they’re purchasing the house with,” Lyor muses, eyebrow arched. 

Seth nods, his face melting into something like sympathy, with the soft curve of his crooked smile. 

“It’s Hannah,” Aaron reasons, like that offers any explanation. It doesn’t seem to. 

“Yes, it’s Hannah. Hannah who —” Lyor makes a vague hand gesture at him. “— and you who —” he continues, with another vague hand gesture.

Aaron frowns. 

“But it’s Hannah.” Aaron looks at Kendra. 

“Hey, don’t look at me,” she says. “I got shot down because I’m ‘too messy’.” Kendra mimes the air quotes.

The table, collectively, howls with laughter. Even Aaron smiles a little bit, despite the way his heart keeps it’s relentless rhythm.

“Well, she wants to buy a house with you,” Seth clarifies. 

“What do you think we’ll be doing in a house we own together, Seth?” Aaron asks, whipping his head up to look at him. 

“Easy, Shore,” Lyor admonishes. “Seth hasn’t seen you and Hannah make googly eyes at each other for the last year and not do anything about the piping hot tension you guys somehow manage to have while talking about mass murder and other weird shit.”

“Relax, Aaron,” Kendra eases. “It’s fine —”

“Are you guys just joking or —” Aaron cuts himself off, looking from face to face. No one immediately offers an answer, so he looks down at his drink. It doesn’t seem to have an answer either, so he finishes it off. He sets it down a little too hard.

“I mean,” Kendra starts, “it’s not out of reach, really, if I’m honest.” 

Seth shakes his head. “Not at all far-fetched. You guys are a special brand of something.” 

“Okay, okay,” Aaron says, ducking his head down into his hands. The table is sticky where he sets his elbows. “Am I the last person to know that I apparently have feelings for Hannah?” he asks. “And that she apparently wants to go Stepford in the suburbs? And that I would like her to — buy a house with me?” 

“We’ve been really busy,” Seth offers, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder. Kendra snickers behind her hand. 

“Busy with what?” Hannah’s voice is close and when Aaron looks up, Hannah stands tall enough, thanks to her high heels, that Aaron has to crane his neck to look up at her.

 _Hannah?_ Aaron thinks. _Feelings for me? That can’t be right._

“The work,” Kendra says, gracefully. “Aaron’s just said he’s exhausted.” 

“Oh. Do you wanna go?” Hannah asks, sliding into the booth opposite Aaron, like she’d been sitting before.

“Not yet. I’m just complaining to complain, I guess.” Aaron shrugs. Hannah gives him an easy grin, and the conversation spins away into an anecdote she leads, which has everyone laughing. 

While Hannah talks, Aaron watches her closely, tracing the ridge of her brow and the sharp jawline, the way she speaks with the smallest of lisps that’s accentuated when she drinks. Her cheeks are flushed from the alcohol, and her posture has always been the worst, but well. 

Well, has it always been there? 

Has it really? 

Aaron glances at Seth and Lyor, and can for sure say he doesn’t take care to study their features like he had Hannah. He turns his attention to Kendra —

They’re his coworkers; he’d go as far as to classify them as best friends with how close they’ve all become, and while they’re all something worth looking at, he still finds his eyes settling on Hannah.

God, it really has always been there.

This isn’t a Bradley Cooper thing. This isn’t _even_ a Henry Cavill thing. It is a thing, though, something that needs a real definition. Something that needs analyzing and scrutinizing. Meticulous breakdown of atoms and particles to find out what kind of thing it is.

Is it a passing thing? Highly unlikely. He can’t really pinpoint a time where Hannah stopped being a friend and started being something. Something?

Something without a category. Something without borders or boundaries. It couldn’t have always been like this.

Except, seemingly, it has.

Later, the group disperses, and like usual, like every other night they go out and have drinks, Hannah sees Aaron into a car before taking her own, grinning with promises to text when she gets home. 

Aaron never realized before that he always waits for Hannah to text. 

And that Hannah always does. 

Fuck, fuck. 

Okay. He can regroup. He can do this. It’s a case, and he’s good at these. He basically helps the President solve problems. He can do this.

He can’t.

He can’t, because this is Hannah, and the only thing he actually knows about Hannah is that she likes eating fried chicken, the Korean kind, she loves nineties music, she loves wearing coats and that her family wasn’t the best. He doesn’t even know her favorite colour.

It sucks, really.

* * *

The team manages to coral him into drinks on a Friday. Aaron’s hesitant, ready to lie about dinner with Nadia that is definitely not planned because he has no fucking idea how to face Hannah without looking like a lovestruck teenager. It takes a little persuading by Kendra, so Nadia tags along.

That’s how Aaron landed in this incredibly embarrassing situation.

“I have another one!” Nadia laughed, doubling over.

“ _Dios mio_ , Nadia, enough.” Aaron buried his head in his hands.

“When we were young, Aaron and I were at the pool doing lengths when Aaron thought he spotted my father at the end.” Nadia said, barely containing her laughter. “And...and he went to dunk the guy under, ignoring his flailing while my dad swam past.”

The entire group bursts out laughing, with Hannah and Kendra clutching their sides.

“Oh...my...god.” Hannah grins, and Aaron swears it’s like falling in love all over again. Her smile is one of happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. 

“— movie, Aaron?” 

Aaron's head snaps up in attention. “Huh? What?”

Nadia's blandly smirking, which is just great because now one more person knows that he's in love with the one person he shouldn't be and he's an idiot who pins after his friend instead of communicating.

Just _great._

“I asked if you guys wanted to catch a movie. But Kendra has a date, and Seth and Lyor are working so I wondered if you and Nadia want to come with me.” Hannah smiles, even though her eyes show concern.

“Yeah, sure.” Aaron beams back, even though it doesn't necessarily meet his eyes.

If Hannah notices, she doesn't say anything.

* * *

It’s noon on Sunday when a knock on his door wakes him up from his nap. He startles, heart racing in his chest as he gets off the couch, adjusting his shirt where it’s ridden up. He doesn’t think he’s expecting anyone, but he rubs his eyes, blinking sleep away as he wipes his hand over his mouth.

When he opens the door, he finds Hannah, leaning against the wall, hands in her pockets. She’s dressed casually, a sweatshirt and black jeans. It’s got foxes on it, and Aaron finds that endearing. Hannah’s hair is combed to perfection as she looks at him with those big brown eyes of hers. 

“Hey, man — oh.” Hannah looks him over, and Aaron knows he looks like he’s gone through hell and back. Regretfully, he wishes he’d have gotten properly dressed for the day that morning instead of lazing it away. “You okay?” 

Aaron nods, brushing his hand down his shirt, widening the door so Hannah can step through. “Yeah, I just — uh, figured I’d — uh, do whatever it is I’m doing,” Aaron mumbles. 

“But are you okay? You look like — ” Hannah cuts herself off, like she’s too kind to voice how Aaron actually looks. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just really lazing it away this weekend. Uh—” Aaron smiles, running his fingers through his messy curly hair. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but — ” 

“Cinema? We’re supposed to see — ” 

“Right! Right.” Aaron glances up at the clock and sees he has negative five minutes to do anything, but Hannah doesn’t seem bothered. She seats herself on the sofa. “I’ll shower and get dressed and we’ll go.” 

“Alright,” Hannah says, giving him an easy, nonplussed smile. It becomes incredibly clear, in that split second, that Hannah may or may not have feelings for him, but there’s an avalanche of feelings in his chest; it is reckless, spewing mounds of emotions every which way, and Aaron doesn’t know which way is up. 

Doesn’t matter if Hannah has feelings or not, because Aaron sure as fuck does, and he wishes Hannah would have never said she’d buy a stupid house with him, because he was just fine. 

Ignorance is bliss, or whatever. 

In record time, he’s showered and dressed, hair over his forehead so he doesn’t have to deal with it. Keys, wallet, phone. Hannah. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Aaron says, coming out of his room. Hannah looks up at him from where she’s sitting, twisting to look at him over the seat back of the couch. 

“You clean up well,” Hannah says appreciatively. 

Aaron forces himself not to blush—because he’s not going to be that dude that blushes every time the woman he apparently likes tosses him a compliment. 

He’s just not. 

“Thanks,” Aaron says, clearing his throat. He blushes. “Ready?” 

Hannah smiles, cocking her head to the side. Concern still tugs at the slant of her eyes, the gentle knit of her brows. “You sure you’re alright?” 

“Never better. Honestly, come on. We’re gonna miss the previews and you hate that.” Aaron teases and Hannah makes a noncommittal sound, and Aaron ushers her out, locking up behind himself. 

* * *

When the movie ends and Hannah’s waving a hand in front of his face, Aaron's still in his encapsulation of thoughts of all the pros and cons of confessing his 'undying love' to Hannah, or that's what Nadia says anyway.

“Earth to Aaron — hey, man. Did you leave your brain at home?” Hannah says, smug. 

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Hannah.” 

Hannah laughs, standing up, grabbing Aaron’s empty bucket of popcorn. Aaron picks himself up and follows Hannah down the aisle. 

“Did you like the movie?” Hannah asks. 

“Uh?” 

“Yeah, same. Definitely could’ve slept through it.” 

Aaron shakes his head. “It was alright.” 

“I did like the love story. Quite winding, that one.” 

“Oh, yeah — yeah,” Aaron lies, because he wasn't even listening. “That was good.” 

“And the villain was actually the daughter — crazy how they put that together.” 

“Mhm,” Aaron agrees. 

“Sad about the cat. Always terrible when movies go killing cats.”

“Fucking horrible. Poor little furball,” Aaron says, shaking his head sympathetically. 

“Aaron, you idiot.” Hannah chuckles, amusement in her eyes, turning around and stopping Aaron. 

“Yeah?” Aaron looks up at Hannah, quirking a smile. “What’s up?” 

“None of that happened. We watched a movie about a war. Are you sure you’re okay? You were spaced the whole time.” 

“Promise I’m fine. I’m just — I’ve just been up in my head about some stuff.” Aaron looks away, somewhere behind Hannah where people are still bustling out of the theatre. The movie screen is blue, and the lights are on and Aaron really needs to get it together.

Hannah eyes him carefully. “Alright,” she relents. 

They end up deciding to get food after Aaron’s stomach grumbles as soon as they buckle their seatbelts in the car, despite just having eaten an entire bucket of popcorn. They settle for burgers. Hannah steals some of Aaron’s fries, even though he gripes about it. 

* * *

Life is hilarious. And by hilarious, he means Ironic™. 

A couple weeks go by and he notices so many things. 

Like how many times a day Hannah checks in with him. How Hannah brings him coffee, unprompted, from her own secret stash in her office, the one reserved for Chuck, always mixed up just the way he likes it. 

Hannah almost always reminds him to eat, to take breaks when he’s been looking at the screen for too long and starts to become irritable or when there's a problem he can't solve and they brainstorm ideas together. He's afraid he's going to fall even more, but at this point, he doesn't really care anymore. It's a pleasant feeling, really. It's pure bliss, and Aaron doesn't want to let go. He wants to know more about Hannah, but she has always been a good spy, like it is in her blood, and Aaron's afraid.

Aaron's afraid that Hannah might figure out that he's in love with her, and that absolutely terrifies him.

* * *

They're back at the bar on a Friday, and by now the bartender knows their drinks by heart. Hannah gets a beer while Aaron nurses a glass of scotch on the rocks.

He's pondering whether he should say it, that he's in love and after three glasses he decides fuck it and just go.

What could go wrong?

“Hannah?” Aaron says, before he can chicken out.

“Yeah?” Hannah turns to look at him, cocking her head to the side, studying him.

“Uh.” Aaron clears his throat. “This is—probably going to be the biggest mistake of my life, but who cares, right? Who cares? Stupid things happen all the time and sometimes they work out just fine. Sometimes everything is great afterwards.”

Hannah’s brow furrows. “Okay?”

“Okay. So. You mean a lot to me, you know. And sometimes I hate it, how I look at you and think that maybe I just never want you to go anywhere. That you just—you should just stay here with me, for—I don’t know. A long time. Forever, maybe. Something really gross that makes us both cringe because—you know—we aren’t like that. But it's all just, like—I just—it didn’t occur to me for a really long time that I’m just—gone for you. Like really gone, just really lost. I don’t even know. I just—I love you. Oh, my God, I love you. So. You’d buy a house with me? Cool, ‘cause I want to buy a house with you. And live in it. And, like, be the kind of people that own a house together.” Aaron expels a breath, wiping his hands on his thighs.

Hannah blinks, her lips pursed, but there isn’t — there isn’t anything in the rigidity of her body that tells Aaron the next words that will tumble out of Hannah’s mouth are _I love you, too_.

“ _Oh_ , _Aaron_ ,” Hannah says softly, frowning. 

“No. No, don’t say my name like that,” Aaron says, his heart rate spiking, slamming hard against his sternum.

“We—we can’t do this,” Hannah finally offers. The brightness in her irises has dimmed and she sighs.

“What? Why not?” 

“It’s—it’s probably the worst time for us to do this.” 

“Okay, so what time will be good?” Aaron asks, like he can mark a date in his calendar, even though he knows exactly what Hannah means.

“I don’t know—I don’t know if there is a time.” Hannah’s words hit Aaron too hard, right in the solar plexus, leaving him breathless.

“Hannah — ” Aaron reaches out for Hannah but she pulls away, just the slightest hint of movement in the seat next to Aaron’s and the action hurts Aaron more than any of Hannah’s words could. Sure, Hannah can turn him down, but to pull away? After spending so much time being close?

“I can't believe you just dropped that on me.” 

“Well, I—I thought you’d be receptive to it, Hannah.” Aaron’s jaw aches with how hard he clenches his teeth.

“I am—listen, it’s not that I—you mean so much to me, Aaron. We can’t ruin that because I made a joke about buying a house with you.” 

“Why does it have to be a joke? Why can’t it just be something you want and could possibly, eventually obtain?” 

“Because I’d rather have you as a friend where things are a little cloudy, than start something that maybe won’t work out. There’s no sense in burning everything down.” 

“We wouldn’t—”

“We don’t know that. Aaron—” Hannah sighs, running her hands through her hair. “Aaron. I don’t say things I don’t—”

She stops abruptly, but Aaron knows what she was going to say.

“You don’t say things you don’t mean?” he asks flatly.

And boy does that sting. Aaron knows this feeling, the feeling of being more invested in a relationship than the other person, and he hates it. He’d never imagined this would turn out to be that. He’d just assumed that he and Hannah had the kind of friendship where they didn’t need to say it, but they were both thinking it, both feeling it.

“You know it's funny.” Aaron grits his teeth, his voice harsh. “That I know almost nothing about you, but you know everything about me. I actually believed that you were invested in this relationship. I guess not.”

“Aaron — ”

“Hannah, don't.”

He hadn’t realized it was just him. He’s embarrassed, now, to have tried to wring some kind of meaningful declaration out of Aaron that Hannah doesn’t even reciprocate. Hey, maybe in another half a decade, right? He stands up without another word, his entire body stiff and eyes prickling with tears.

He ignores Hannah’s voice calling after him.

There’s so much feeling clogged in his chest. He doesn’t cry about it, even though he wants to. Sort of, he would like to rewind time and tell his past self to shut up, don’t say anything, because it isn’t going to change anything at all. At least he knows that now. Hindsight, blah, blah, blah.

To be fair, when all the signs down the road he’s driving tell him he’s going the right way, he doesn’t exactly expect to reach a dead end. And optimistically, nothing has changed yet. Hannah’s aware of emotions Aaron harbors that she can’t reciprocate, and that’s fine.

That's fine.

Timing isn’t always good. However, Aaron doesn’t think there’s no time for them at all. There has to be.

Because Hannah hadn’t exactly said no.

But she most certainly hadn’t said _yes_.

What Aaron knows right now, is that he doesn’t want to go to work pretending to be okay with Hannah working right next to him, who will probably, most likely actually be okay

He calls in sick the next day.

* * *

Aaron’s fine. He doesn’t do anything drastic. He’s had unrequited crushes before. He can navigate this. But it’s difficult, because Hannah gives him these soft, apologetic eyes, and Aaron wants to be mad, but he isn’t. He can’t be. He’s just bruised.

It just plain sucks, looking at the person you sort of realize you’re in love with, and they don’t have those kinds of feelings for you in return. 

So, Aaron pines for a little while, and eventually it gets easier, but it’s not like it goes away. That’s a pipe dream if he’s ever heard one.

* * *

And it’s not that he’s waiting, but it’s a little bit like he is. He keeps expecting Hannah to turn to him, to call him, text him, send him a goddamn smoke signal and tell Aaron, okay, it’s time now. 

Except she doesn’t. 

* * *

It’s going to take some rebranding, he decides.

So, Aaron downloads Tinder.

He meets Lena, Sofia, Isobel. One of them is dinner and dancing. One takes him hiking. And one is a lunch date on a Sunday.

He doesn’t sleep with any of them, but the company is nice. He doesn’t see any of them a second time.

Aaron deletes Tinder.

* * *

As promised, Aaron does go on his drunk deep dive.

It doesn’t help anyone. It most certainly does not help himself. But for a little while, tipsy on Chardonnay, he holds his wine glass and lets himself live in a fantasy.

He’s had too much wine to properly figure out how right they are.

* * *

The team manages to drag him into drinks on a Tuesday in late August. Aaron’s hesitant, ready to lie about dinner with his folks that is definitely not planned, again.

It’s not Hannah asking, but Seth. And Seth’s giving him a pleading look, with his brow furrowed, frowning.

“Please, Aaron? It’s been weird the last, like, month and a half. Don’t know what happened, and I don’t want to know what happened, but maybe you just need a break or something.”

“Alcohol almost never helps anything,” Aaron says bitterly. But he joins them anyway.

Lyor doesn’t join them, and neither does Nadia, or anyone else from their team, so it’s only Seth, Kendra, Aaron, and Hannah.

Kendra and Seth sit next together, which leaves Aaron and Hannah on the other side of the booth. Aaron’s gotten past avoiding Hannah completely, has taken to sitting next to Hannah while working. He’s fine.

They grab drinks and talk about work. They talk about Kendra’s boyfriend and their upcoming vacation. They talk about Seth and Lyor. They talk about stupid videos they’ve seen on the web, and Hannah and Aaron derail the conversation talking about movies. The usual stuff, good stuff, the stuff that makes Aaron forget about the rest.

The four of them divide and conquer a pool table. Aaron doesn’t mind being on a team with Hannah. Even high fives her when they demolish Kendra and Seth.

“Another round, a rematch,” Seth tries, nudging Aaron’s arm with his elbow.

“I gotta go, Seth,” Kendra says. “But you boys have fun.” She pats Seth on the chest on the way out of the bar.

Seth clears his throat. “Well, you know what they say, three’s a crowd.” So, Seth shuffles away, too.

Standing by the pool table, Aaron looks down at Hannah, who’s already looking up at him. “I can wait with you while you get a ride home,” she says, chivalrous as ever, but Aaron shakes his head.

“Let’s just stay. We can play another game, have a few more drinks,” Aaron decides, shrugging his shoulders, holding his cue stick with both hands.

“Aaron, I—”

“You’re still my friend, Hannah. We can still play pool and have beers. I’m—”

Hannah clears her throat.

So, they stay, and play pool, and drink some more. Enough that Aaron laughs and forgets why he isn’t supposed to notice the crinkles by Hannah’s eyes, or Hannah’s silky smooth hair that Aaron loves to play with, or the way Hannah’s lips are so much pinker when she drinks.

They make him dizzy when he looks at Hannah across the pool table and lines up the winning shot.

They laugh so sincerely for the first time in a long time, it feels like.

When they leave the bar, there are lights in Aaron’s eyes, and his brain feels like Party City, and Hannah’s hand presses low against Aaron’s back, ushering him outside.

It starts to rain. It starts to rain, and Aaron should get out of it, but he doesn’t want to, stepping hard into the small puddles on the sidewalk. Water splashes everywhere.

“Aaron, Jesus fucking Christ, what are you doing?” Hannah calls out to him.

“I’m singing in the rain.” Aaron swings himself around a lamppost, face turned up to the sky. The water droplets splash against his face, warm, because it’s Washington DC and it never cools down in the summer. “Just singing in the rain,” Aaron sings, at the very top of his lungs. “What a glorious feeling I’m happy again.”

“I'm laughing at clouds. So dark up above, the sun's in my heart,” Aaron sings, much softer now. He trips and falls, but Hannah's there to catch him. His hands are now around Hannah's neck, and Hannah’s looking up at him like she’s never seen Aaron before. And maybe she hasn’t, not like this. Not like, maybe she doesn’t care anymore. Hannah’s arms wind around his waist holding him securely on the sidewalk. “And I’m ready for love.”

“Aaron,” Hannah says, and it sounds like she’s trying to say something else.

“Hannah,” Aaron says, looking right at her, into Hannah’s eyes that shine. “It’s raining. It’s raining and I’m in love with you. Just let me be.” 

They stand there, underneath the waterfall, letting it wash over them. Maybe it’ll absolve them of all their fears, of all their hesitation, Aaron hopes. Aaron slides his hands over the wet fabric of Hannah’s button-up, pulling her arms from around Aaron’s waist to take her hands. He tugs Hannah along, so they stand underneath the canopy sheltering the doorway for a restaurant next door that’s closed for the night. Aaron leans against the glass and brings Hannah close. Hannah crowds into him, a hand on the glass behind Aaron. She smells good, like fresh air and trees and rain.

“Come home with me,” Aaron says, looking through his lashes. Hannah’s hair is wet now, stuck to her forehead. Her eyelashes are clumped together, and there’s a flush Aaron can see on her cheeks.

“We’re drunk,” Hannah murmurs, looking down from his eyes.

“So?” Aaron sets his hands on Hannah’s cheeks. “So, what?”

“So, bad decisions get made when we’re drunk.” Hannah curls a hand around Aaron’s hip, thumb brushing over bare skin. Aaron shivers.

Aaron sighs, running his fingers through the back of Hannah’s head, through the hair that’s dripping with rainwater. “I’d rather be a bad drunk decision than a sober non-decision.” 

“Aaron—” 

“I know, I know. I can’t always get what I want. But when have you ever seen me not fight for something I want real bad?” 

Hannah doesn’t say anything, just heaves a sigh. Her hand slips from Aaron’s hip to his back, and somehow their bodies press closer, warm where they’re touching despite the fact that they’re soaking wet. 

“I want you real bad,” Aaron says lowly. “Just buy the stupid metaphorical house with me, Hannah.” 

Hannah smiles, luminous in the dark. “That’s not how this works.” 

“Why not, Hannah?” Aaron whispers, smiling, too. “What if it works and you’re wrong?” 

“Aaron…” 

“Tell me you don’t want it. Tell me you don’t,” Aaron coaxes.

“I can’t,” Hannah admits, her head ducking down so much closer to Aaron’s. Aaron sucks in a sharp breath, tilting his head back. He blinks and Hannah’s eyes are close.

“So—” 

“If it works, then great. It’d be great. But what if it doesn’t? I can’t — I can’t be selfish at the expense of others. It could be cataclysmic. We could ruin each other.” 

“Ruin me, then. I don't care anymore.” 

Hannah’s eyes flash open, looking at him, hot and intense. It feels like Aaron’s body catches fire, like he’s been doused in kerosene and Hannah’s lighting matches.

“Aaron— ” 

“I don’t care,” Aaron insists. “I don’t. At least I’d know. Do you know what it’s like to wonder?” 

“Of course, I do, Aaron.” Hannah’s brows knit together as she shrugs. “I’ve been wondering for years.” 

“Years?” Aaron pulls back, looks at Hannah properly, the soft curve of her embarrassed smile.

“It’s not been easy,” Hannah says, shrugging one shoulder.

“We could make it easy. And then you won’t have to wonder anymore. I’m not a question anymore, Hannah.” 

“You’re not exactly an answer, either.” 

“I don’t like this metaphor.” 

“I should get you home, Aaron. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Fine. Fine,” Aaron relents. “When you go home, though,” Aaron says, quiet, running his fingers through Hannah’s hair, pushing it back from her forehead. “I want you to think about it. All night. I want you to think about me. I want you to think about all the stupid reasons you’re telling me no.”

Hannah licks her lips. “Why are you like this?” 

Aaron grins. “Cause I really like you.”

* * *

Aaron unlocks the door and lets himself in. Everything is quiet, and it’s dark. He strips from his wet clothes, walking down towards his bedroom. He can still hear her laugh, can still feel Hannah all along his body. He wants to sleep but it’s three in the morning and he really feels like watching Singing in the Rain.

Another part of him, a gentler part, is stupidly grateful that they could have had that conversation, and still be here. 

_Joke’s on you,_ Aaron thinks. _We didn’t blow up at all._

Granted, they’re teetering along something precarious, something dangerous, but if Aaron were to compare this feeling to being cliffside, he’d say there’s a fence at the edge. They aren’t hurtling over it.

Aaron falls asleep before the movie even starts.

* * *

In the morning, Aaron steels himself to live in a world where he has feelings for a person who has feelings for him but won’t do anything about it.

His head aches, but it eases after he slams some water and showers, popping a couple aspirin to kill the minor hangover before he gets to work.

When he gets into the office, things are decidedly not different. There’s coffee waiting for him at his desk. Hannah’s sitting on his couch with her laptop on and Aaron still feels that stickiness in his chest, but it’s fine. He’s got this.

Surprisingly, though, Hannah turns to him before he sits down.

“You got a second?” Hannah asks, shutting her laptop.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?” Aaron asks, setting his bag in his chair.

“Nothing,” Hannah laughs. “I just thought it would be nice to go for a walk.” 

“A walk,” Aaron echoes.

“Yeah.” 

Hannah takes him outside. It takes a while, and they're finally at a park and they meander down the sidewalk. It’s sunny and hot, and Aaron looks at Hannah, pokes her arm so he’ll stop walking. Aaron eyes her curiously. “Hannah—like, two things. One: it’s the middle of a workday, and we have work to do. The FBI doesn't pay you to hang around my office and take walks. And two: you’re scaring me a little bit, please don’t tell me whatever you have is terminal.” 

Hannah laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t have anything. I literally just — things got weird and we need to make them un-weird.” Hannah shoves her hands into her pockets. 

“Weird — ” Aaron refrains from placing blame. “How do you propose we do such a thing?” 

“Well,” Hannah starts, rocking on her feet, in high heels, which is an impressive feat, “the economy is in shambles, Aaron, we cannot financially and responsibly purchase a house. We just can’t. It would be far too small, in a neighborhood you’d hate, and too far away from everything. However, I’ve got a nifty coin, and if you’d like, we can play heads or tails to see who’s apartment we can shack up in.”

Hannah takes her hand out of her pocket and presents Aaron with a coin. Aaron picks it up from Hannah’s palm and examines it, like it holds the secrets to the universe. And then he breaks out into a smile so wide it must be contagious, because Hannah smiles, too. 

“Hannah, this is — very cute, and like, sort of romantic — I’m feeling the tingles.” 

“But?” 

“But,” Aaron starts, taking in a deep breath. “But there’s no way I’m moving all my shit into your apartment when your heating doesn’t work.” 

“So, then we’ll live in your one bedroom.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And share a bed,” Hannah says, waggling her eyebrows. 

“Jeez, at least let me kiss you first,” Aaron says, rolling his eyes. 

Hannah laughs. 

“I need more wooing than this,” Aaron decides after a moment. 

“You're the man, you're supposed to do the wooing, I'm taking initiative here.” 

“How about dinner?” 

“There we go.” 

“Tonight. Seven? I made reservations.” 

“Aaron! What if I’d told you to fuck off?” 

“I would have just cancelled the reservations,” Aaron says. Like it’s painfully obvious. 

“I can’t with you sometimes.” 

“Only sometimes, though, it seems,” Aaron points out, reaching out to take Hannah’s hand in his own, slotting their fingers together. 

Hannah smiles, looking down at their hands and then up at Aaron. “Yes, only sometimes.” 

“Alright, baller. I’ll take that.” 

“God, you’re an idiot.” 

Aaron hums, but his grin is telling. “I thought about you. Like you told me. And while I can’t discount all the reasons why this won’t leave egg on our faces, I have to face all the reasons you and me work like nothing else.”

“Aaron,” Hannah huffs. “You have to kiss me. You have to kiss me right — ”

Aaron circles his arm around Hannah’s waist and pulls her up to meet her in a kiss. It doesn’t work, not immediately, because Aaron’s laughing too much, and Hannah’s laughing, too, but when they try again, when they kiss properly, their lips slot together. Aaron can feel the softness of Hannah's lips, the pressure of her mouth, soft and sweet, right there underneath the D.C. sun.

* * *

They go back to the office and start the workday, and it’s exciting because nothing is different. Nothing, not a single thing. 

He’s got feelings and they’re threatening to choke him to death, but it’s fine, cause, as it happens, Hannah’s looking at him the same way she has the whole time he’s known her, and wow, _has Aaron really been this blind the whole time?_

* * *

They have dinner as planned, dressed up in button downs. Aaron wears jeans, which is a shock. It’s a good time with Hannah, like it always is. Their conversation never falters, and Aaron’s cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

Which is the usual when they take their bits too far, because that’s who they are.

After dinner, they walk down the brightly lit sidewalk and stand in line to get ice cream.

Aaron slips his fingers between the spaces of Hannah’s own.

Everything's right where it should be.

* * *

_What's your favorite color?_

_Purple._


End file.
